


into your bloodstream

by forcynics



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Biting, F/M, Mind Compulsion, No Consent, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She comes undone; he tears her apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	into your bloodstream

 

 

 

It is unexpected, unanticipated: the shift from unfaltering pleasure to unbearable pain.

It is the way her body responds to his, naturally, as he runs his lips over her skin, and then it is the way his teeth plunge _through_ the skin, breaking it, breaking her, sinking into her bloodstream.

It is not a sensation that she thinks she will ever be accustomed to – her body has a delayed reaction as the pleasure _does_ falter, and she _does_ bear the pain.

It is something that repulses her deep down; it is something that she clings too, _desires_ , even deeper down.

 

 

 

Sheets rustle, her lips are parted – a gasp escapes. Her fingers twist into his hair – yes, _yes_ – as she crashes over the edge of oblivion, tumbles down from her high, and he catches her with his mouth, with teeth that plunge into her inner thigh, tear through the delicate skin and elicit another gasp, so very different and so very similar at the same time.

He raises his head, crawls up her body, and there’s a hand cupping her cheek, blue eyes that pull her in – _Don’t be afraid._ She isn’t; just like that. Tilts her head on the pillow, doesn’t protest when his blood-stained lips press hard against her mouth – it tastes like when she cuts her finger and sucks it, but more.

She can feel the blood on her lips when he pulls away – he licks it off so not a precious drop goes to waste.

 

 

 

There are marks scattered over her skin, scars, his patchwork of claims – _I was here, I was here, I was here._

Or better: _I tasted you here._

She stares in the mirror, naked, runs her fingers over them, feather-light, unlike the pierce of fangs, unlike the _sharp_ and the _sting_ before endorphins kick in. _He was here, he was here, he was here,_ and she doesn’t mind at all.

 

 

 

The steering-wheel of his car digs into her back; she arches as he buries himself inside of her. Movement carries her into him, teeth meet neck, and she cries out. It is their pattern.

She twitches, a lovely mess in his arms, shaking, shaking. He holds her closer, pulls her to him, and drinks, drinks. She is addicting; she tastes like fireworks.

Another claim left in the form of bloody, torn skin. _He was there_ ; he was everywhere.

Every inch of her knows what it is like to break in his hold.

 

 

 


End file.
